


Just Look Past my Rumors

by terianoen



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Daishou is too, Kuroo Tetsurou is Bad at Feelings, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, POV Alternating, Pining Daishou, Pining Kuroo, and dumb, but it's less his fault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:41:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25682194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terianoen/pseuds/terianoen
Summary: So maybe Daishou Suguru wasn’t the best person. He’d had enough people tell him right from wrong to know his morals didn’t exactly fit into the same boxes everyone else prescribed to. He just hadn’t cared. His only mistake had been trusting that Kuroo Tetsurou not only knew that but accepted him anyway.A year later and Kuroo’s going to the same university, playing on the same volleyball team, and staying in the same dorm, but it’s not like any of that matters. Suguru got over Kuroo a long time ago. It wasn’t like he was still in love with him.Or the one where Kuroo listened to a rumor about Daishou in high school and ruined their whole relationship.
Relationships: Daishou Suguru/Kuroo Tetsurou
Comments: 19
Kudos: 201





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is Three parts long at about 15,000 words. It’s mostly canon compliant. The only things that aren’t are where the characters end up. The only spoilers are who wins the Nohebi/Nekoma match, and whether Nekoma goes to nationals.

The first time they kissed, Suguru felt like he was on fire. If anyone had asked before Kuroo kissed him, he would have said he didn’t actually like Kuroo. Kuroo was annoying and pushy and judgy and saw through Suguru like it was his job.

Then in the middle of snarking back at—admittedly not one of Suguru’s best lines—Kuroo had suddenly gone quiet. Suguru had been opening his mouth to insult him, but Kuroo had already been stepping closer, backing him against the wall, his hand planting itself next to Suguru’s head. His breath had been hot against Suguru’s lips as he leaned in, as he asked if he could kiss Suguru.

And Suguru was good at a lot of things. Resisting temptation when it backed him up against a wall and made him realize he was actually in love with a guy whose hair made him look like a rooster was not one of those things.

It hadn’t even been two months later before Kuroo sat him down at a park bench and told him they should break up.

“You… what?” Suguru asked, even though he’d heard exactly what Kuroo had said, but he’d been stupid and young, and he’d thought… _maybe._

“I think we should break up,” Kuroo repeated, and he was still pacing in front of Suguru, his arms crossed tight across his chest like Suguru was the one breaking up with him.

“Oh, right,” Suguru answered, and Kuroo froze, his eyes sharp on Suguru’s face.

Suguru hadn’t known what else to say. Hadn’t known how to tell Kuroo that he in no way thought they should break up. It hadn’t even entered his stratosphere of thinking. It hadn’t occurred to him that he would ever _have_ to tell Kuroo how much he didn’t want to break up. He hadn’t ever though he would have to explain just how difficult it was to leave his manipulation and lies at the door and act just how he wanted just because he wanted around Kuroo and didn’t Kuroo know how much that _meant._

“Why?” Suguru asked, and it was a question he shouldn’t have asked. A question he didn’t really want to know the answer to. He’d thought he wanted to know what exactly he’d done wrong.

“I just….” Kuroo said, his fists clenching at his sides. “I can’t be with a cheater anymore.”

“What is _that_ supposed to mean?” Suguru asked, and he could feel anger beginning to burn under his skin, because had Kuroo forgotten that _he_ was the one who’d started this between them? He’d known exactly what kind of person Suguru was, and he had no right to judge him about it now.

“It means I tried, but I can’t pretend everything fine anymore,” Kuroo said, waving his hands between them with a manic energy that Suguru didn’t understand. Didn’t care to understand.

“Well, next time, don’t try,” Suguru answered, standing from the bench and brushing himself off with as unconcerned an air as he could manage.

Suguru was beyond annoyed when he heard Kuroo was going to the same university as him. It had been a year after they’d broken up, and it was like Kuroo was _trying_ to undo all the hard work Suguru had put into hating him over their third year of high school. He didn’t want to have to pretend like the feel of Kuroo’s lips against his hadn’t been the best thing ever or the way Kuroo had said he wanted nothing else to do with Suguru hadn’t been the worst.

So, he was irritated. Angry. He wasn’t relieved in the slightest.

That would have been pathetic, and Suguru was a lot of things, but pathetic wasn’t one of them. 

* * *

Suguru set his last moving box down next to his bed. The dorm was actually bigger than he’d been expecting it to be with two bedrooms connected by a common room that led out into the hallway. His roommate wasn’t there yet, the other bedroom’s door still tightly locked, and Suguru could help feeling relieved. Seeing his roommate was the last thing he needed.

“Do you want us to stay and help you unpack?” his mother asked. She clutched her bag in front of her, shifting in the middle of his room like she didn’t know what to do with herself, and he figured she probably wanted to leave as quickly as she could so he wouldn’t see her cry.

“That’s alright, mom,” Suguru answered, smiling as she hugged him. His father patted him lightly on the back, and then they were gone, leaving him alone with a room full of boxes.

Unpacking was slow, and he didn’t get near as much as he wanted to get done before he heard the door leading out to the hallway creak. Suguru closed his eyes, letting his hands rest against his desk as he heard a group of people chattering in the doorway. He hoped they didn’t see him, or at least didn’t try to talk to him. The last thing he needed was—

“Daishou-kun?” Kuroo’s mother called. She stood in his bedroom doorway, her hand resting against his doorframe as she smiled at him. “I didn’t know you were Tetsurou’s roommate.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Suguru answered, making his smile polite and charming as he bowed. She returned his motion, moving a little further into his room, even though he hadn’t invited her. “It was a surprise for the both of us, I think.”

It had been a surprise. Suguru hadn’t known anyone else going here, and none of his other friends had been close enough to share an apartment with. But he’d still never thought the admissions department would put him with _Kuroo_.

“Oh, well,” she said. “It’ll be nice for Tetsurou to have a roommate he knows. I know he was worried about getting someone he wouldn’t like.” As if Kuroo could like Suguru. Kuroo had made his thoughts about Suguru plenty clear, but then he _wouldn’t_ go telling his mother about that, would he?

“Yes,” Suguru answered, and it was moments like these that he was glad he’d spend so much of his time practicing lying. Otherwise, he would never have kept the smile on his face as he lied blatantly to Kuroo’s mother. “We were very lucky.”

Then Kuroo’s voice was calling out, and she bowed to him one more time before leaving. He closed his door behind her, determined to put off seeing Kuroo for as long as humanly possible.

Suguru could hear Kuroo and his family moving boxes for a good twenty minutes afterward, followed by low murmuring and the door shutting loudly. He figured Kuroo’s parents had taken off after helping him move his boxes too, leaving Kuroo to unpack by himself. The dorm was ominously silent afterward, no sound coming from the wall that connected their rooms.

It only took Suguru until dinner to get bored of hiding in his room. Kuroo had probably already left the dorm anyway, and he was hungry, and he wasn’t about to let Kuroo dictate how he lived his life. It was bad enough they would be on the same volleyball team, Suguru shouldn’t have to avoid his own room too. Of course, that meant as soon as he opened his door, Kuroo was also coming out of his room, their eyes meeting across the room unable to avoid each other anymore.

“Daishou-san,” Kuroo said, and he sounded like he was trying to be polite. Suguru sneered at him and stormed across the room, yanking open the common room door. Kuroo sighed behind him, his footsteps light against the wood floor as he followed Suguru. Suguru left the door open for Kuroo to lock. Honestly, it was more curtesy than he deserved.

* * *

Suguru tried to avoid the dorm as much as he could after that, and when he couldn’t, he stayed in his room. He only saw Kuroo in passing, ignoring him when he nodded his head or opened his mouth like he was going to say something. He never heard any noises coming from Kuroo’s room, so he assumed he’d gotten Suguru’s message through his thick skull.

Suguru didn’t want to see him, didn’t want to talk to him, and there was absolutely no reason they needed to.

It wasn’t until the first day of Volleyball practice that he realized Kuroo had only been biding his time, and Suguru had been an idiot not to realize it.

The practice had already been bad enough, the four first-years being forced to line up in the middle of the gym and say their name, position, height, and high school. It had started off fine, their captain, a 6’0’’ wing spiker with blonde hair pulled back in a low ponytail, had nodded as the first two talked. The first was a 5’9’’, dark haired boy, who smiled and scratched the back of his head as he said he was a setter, and Suguru couldn’t help thinking the guy could _pretend_ to be a little more confident. The second was 6’1’’ wing spiker, who slouched just enough to give Suguru a bad taste in his mouth.

Then there was Kuroo, his lips folding around Nekoma High School enough to make their captain, Watanabe, hesitate, looking over Kuroo with new respect as he asked just how far Nekoma had made it at Nationals. And sure, Suguru wasn’t stupid enough to really believe Nekoma or Kuroo were bad, and he could understand why Watanabe would be interested to have someone like Kuroo on the team. It still didn’t change the fact that Suguru didn’t like that they were already starting off with their captain looking at Kuroo with stars in his eyes.

“And you?” Watanabe asked, turning to Suguru.

“Daishou Suguru,” he said. “Wing Spiker, 5’10’’, Nohebi High School.” Watanabe’s eyes narrowed before Suguru even finished.

“I remember you. I saw your team playing in the Spring preliminaries,” he said, and Suguru already knew where he was leading. He was one of _those_ people. “Can’t saw I was too impressed with your tactics,” Watanabe said, and Suguru wanted to tell him to shove his disapproval.

He wanted to ask just where Watanabe’s moral high ground had gotten him, because Suguru had been captain of the fourth best high school team in Tokyo, and Watanabe was captain of what exactly? A mediocre college team that had never made it anywhere. Suguru smiled blandly and waited for him to move on.

Somehow practice actually went downhill from there. It was like everything Suguru did was wrong. When they did laps, their co-captain and ace, Kiyama, yelled at him that he wasn’t trying hard enough. Suguru bit his lip and picked up the pace, even though the whole thing was stupid. What was the point of wearing themselves to exhaustion at the beginning of practice when they needed to be able to focus the rest of the time?

Suguru’s footwork on his jump serve was sloppy when he knew it actually wasn’t. He’d spent three years making sure it wasn’t. He used dinks too much when he was spiking. He didn’t put enough effort into jumping when he blocked. He should try harder to dig balls that weren’t near him.

It was infuriating. It wasn’t like Suguru didn’t know there were things he needed to work on, but the things the third-years were calling him out on had nothing to do with his technique and everything to do with his style. For his part, Coach Takao seemed oblivious. When he talked, it was clear he knew what he was doing, but too often he just nodded along with Watanabe before moving away to hand out advice to someone else. And Suguru was trying, but even he could only say ‘yes, sir’ to completely idiotic things so many times.

“You know, I can’t really blame them,” Kuroo said, and Suguru clenched his jaw. He hadn’t even realized Kuroo was behind him. “It’s hard to like you when you smile like that,” Kuroo said, which was ironic considering Kuroo had always liked his smile. Or maybe he’d just been lying. And why did he have to smirk like that, his eyes crinkling, and his lips drawn up on one side like he was daring Suguru to rise to his bait like they hadn’t just spent the last year hating each other.

“Then why do they like you?” Suguru asked, even though he shouldn’t have. He’d been avoiding Kuroo because he didn’t want to see him, and at the first provocation, he snapped right at Kuroo’s bait.

“Maybe because I’m so charming?” Kuroo answered, not even pretending to be offended.

“Charmingly stupid maybe,” Suguru said, and he deliberately turned away when Kuroo gasped mockingly.

As much as he hated to admit it, bickering with Kuroo did make him feel better. In that horrible, he should know better kind of way. They’d already tried the whole not hating each other thing, and it hadn’t worked, so what was he doing letting Kuroo make him feel better?

The rest of practice, Kuroo keeping his distance on the other side of the net, and Suguru couldn’t help but notice that nothing he did was wrong. His blocks were so intuitive. His quick set was so stable. His delayed spike was so consistent. Who even used delayed spikes anymore? Kuroo apparently—along with everyone else who was over sixty.

It wasn’t until Suguru was getting ready to leave that Kuroo spoke to him again. Suguru had just gotten out of his shower, slipping on his jacket as he tried to get out of the locker room as quickly as humanly possible, and didn’t Kuroo _know_ Suguru didn’t like him?

“Are you going back to the dorm?” Kuroo asked, his black hair flat across his face in that way it only ever got when it was wet. The first time Suguru had seen his hair like that, he’d laughed so hard Kuroo had thrown the pillow off Suguru’s bed at him. It had been worth the way Kuroo had flushed, leaning over and kissing him to shut him up with his hair still dripping.

“No,” Suguru answered, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

“Why not?” Kuroo asked, scrambling to pick up his own bag and follow Suguru. “You have to be tired and classes start tomorrow, so you should probably rest.” Suguru tried not to respond. He really actually tried, but he had never been good at controlling himself around Kuroo.

“Piss off, Kuroo,” he said, spinning around on his heel. “I don’t need your approval.”

“What?” Kuroo blinked, and he actually looked surprised like he wasn’t trying to make Suguru upset. “I wasn’t trying to…”

“Then what were you trying to do?” Suguru asked when Kuroo seemed like he wouldn’t continue.

“I was just trying to say that it’s your room too,” Kuroo said, that horribly unattractive blush that only appeared when he was genuinely embarrassed appearing across his cheekbones. “You don’t have to avoid it.”

“What?” Suguru said. “I’m not avoiding anything.”

“Then come back to the room,” Kuroo said, somehow not calling Suguru out on his obvious lie.

“Why?”

“Come on, Daishou,” Kuroo answered, and Suguru couldn’t tell if he was faking his disappointed expression or if he was actually upset. Except, he had no reason to be upset. He had been the one that backed away. He’d been the one who told Suguru he wanted nothing to do with him. He didn’t get to be upset now. “We can’t live together _and_ be on the same volleyball team if we hate each other.”

“So, what?” Suguru asked, squinting up at him. “You want to be friends now?”

“I mean…” Kuroo answered, and there was that blush across his cheekbones again. “We can at least try not hating each other.” Suguru didn’t have any idea what to say. It hadn’t been what he was expecting Kuroo to say, but then Kuroo never seemed to do what he was expecting.

“Whatever,” he said, and somehow, he ended up back to their dorm.

* * *

The first week of living with Kuroo was not near as bad as Suguru expected it to be. He expected it to be awkward and loud, and he expected to yell and be angry and storm out of the dorm more than once. He thought Kuroo would be messy and judgmental and try to pick fights with him as much as Suguru tried to pick fights with Kuroo, and—none of that happened.

If Kuroo was messy, he kept it in his room, cleaning every dish he used methodically behind him. And while he was still loud and teasing, he was also abruptly quiet when homework was brought out or when Suguru when to his room for the night, flicking his light off behind him.

It made Suguru want to scream at him for being so horribly _considerate_. So nice. Didn’t Kuroo know he’d given up the right to be nice to Suguru? Didn’t he know he wasn’t allowed to make Suguru’s skin burn with just his eyes? The whole thing was hell, and the worst part was that he didn’t actually have anything to complain about.

“Hey, Daishou!” Kuroo called, the same way he always welcomed Suguru when he walked through their door. Like he had no idea how much Suguru hated him.

Suguru ignored him, leaning against the doorframe as he slipped his shoes off. Kuroo was draped on the couch, his feet stretched across the cushion and resting in another person’s lap. Suguru was pretty sure said person was the former ace of Fukurodani, his ridiculous black and white spikes giving him away. If Suguru remembered correctly, Bokuto didn’t actually go to college too far from here, so he wasn’t shocked to see Bokuto sprawled across their couch on a Friday night. Annoyed, yes. Surprised, no.

He turned into their kitchen, reaching into their fridge to pull out the half-filled bottle of water he’d started drinking that morning. It was the first time Kuroo had anyone over, and while Kuroo had been doing a surprisingly good job at being considerate, Suguru doubted that consideration extended to Bokuto.

“Sorry about this,” Kuroo said, his voice right behind Suguru. Suguru’s hand tightened around his water bottle, staring at the tiles on the kitchen wall and willing his heart rate back down. He’d been living with Kuroo for a week now, and Kuroo still had the power to sneak up behind him. “I would have let you know Bokuto was coming over, but he just kind of showed up, and I would have texted you, but I don’t have your number.”

“Whatever,” Suguru answered, and he refrained for telling Kuroo that Suguru had given Kuroo his number when they’d been dating in high school, and it hadn’t changed. That unless Kuroo had deleted it, he should know it. That Suguru still had Kuroo’s number saved under That Rooster-Haired Bastard, knowing he should have changed it a year ago and being unable to bring himself to do it. “It’s fine,” Suguru lied, and he wondered if Kuroo could tell he was lying. Kuroo used to be so good at seeing through Suguru’s lies. “I’m going over to a friend’s anyway.”

“Oh… sure,” Kuroo said, and really, _he_ had no right to sound so disappointed.

Mika’s college wasn’t actually that far, and Suguru had been planning on visiting her soon. He just hadn’t gotten around to it, and it wasn’t because he enjoyed being in a small space with Kuroo. He knew before he even knocked on her door that she would be surprised to see him, and he wasn’t disappointed.

“What are you doing here?” Mika asked, cracking her door open and squinting like he’d woken her up.

“Visiting you,” he answered, smiling charmingly at her. Her eyes just narrowed more, but she did open her door for him to come in. He knew she was living alone, her dorm only one room, but it was still a pleasant space that Mika had decorated nicely.

“Why the surprise visit?” she asked.

“Kuroo has a friend over,” he said, sitting lightly at her desk. Mika pursed her lips, drawing her legs up under herself as she sat on her bed.

“I don’t get it,” Mika answered. “What could Kuroo-san have done that was so bad?”

“Who said he did anything?” Suguru asked, fiddling with the edge of the blanket Mika had draped over her chair. He wondered if he curled up in a ball and cried if she would leave the topic alone forever, or if that would just make her more curious. He wasn’t sure he was actually a good enough fake crier to pull it off though.

“Come on, Daishou,” Mika said, and she had that same ‘no bullshit, now’ tone she’d used when they were dating. Really, they’d been good together, and even now, when they’d been broken up for months, Suguru couldn’t help wishing they’d been able to make it work between them. It would have been so much _easier._ “Part of the reason we broke up was because you were still in love with someone else,” Mika said. “You’re seriously going to tell me Kuroo-san’s not that person?”

“I hate him,” Suguru answered, and it wasn’t a lie. Not really. No matter how he felt about Kuroo, he hated how Kuroo made him feel.

“Whatever, Daishou,” Mika said. Suguru chose to ignore her.

* * *

Suguru rubbed his hands over his eyes, resting his elbows on his knees and desperately wishing the physics homework he had spread across the coffee table in front of him would just finish itself. He hadn’t realized how _bad_ he was at physics until he’d had to take a college level class, the teachers writing the problems on the board and explaining everything with clipped sentences like it was supposed to be obvious.

He jerked when he felt the couch dip to his right, the slide of ceramic against wood coming from the coffee table. Kuroo pushed Suguru’s papers out of the way, resting a plate of pasta on the table before reclining back, another plate in his own lap. Suguru had heard him stumble into the flat about half an hour ago and start clanging around in the kitchen, but that didn’t explain why Kuroo was sitting next to Suguru with an extra plate of food.

“What are you doing?” Suguru asked.

“You looked like you could use a break,” Kuroo answered, picking his fork up and promptly shoving a ridiculous amount of pasta into his mouth.

“So, you decided to bother me?” Suguru asked.

“Hey!” Kuroo answered, not sounding at all offended. “I made you food.” Which didn’t at all answer the question of why?

“Did you poison it?”

“What? No,” Kuroo said, and he flicked his gaze away from Suguru, blushing across his cheekbones. “I just had some extra, and I thought you would be hungry. It would be stupid to waste it.”

“Right,” Suguru answered, sliding the plate onto his lap and picking up the fork. He didn’t mention that they had a fridge. That Kuroo could have just saved the pasta for another day. Suguru had done that plenty of times without ever offering Kuroo any of his extras.

Still, it was… nice. Considerate. And Suguru still couldn’t understand why Kuroo wasn’t sticking to the status quo. He had been the one who’d wanted Suguru gone, so why did he seem so determined to be friendly? Why was he trying to make it so hard for Suguru to hate him?

“So, what are you working on anyway?” Kuroo asked. “You’re looking constipated over here.” And Suguru almost laughed. _Laughed_ like Kuroo hadn’t just insulted him, like they were back in high school and only trading banter back and forth.

“I can’t have been looking more constipated than you look on a daily basis,” Suguru answered, forking some pasta into his mouth.

“You’re just jealous of my beautiful face,” Kuroo said, and he was smirking now, his lips curving crookedly. Suguru wanted to bite him, make him gasp and stutter and stop talking, because damnit, Kuroo never shut up.

“How could I be jealous of your creepy ass face?” Suguru asked, tilting his head. His bangs fell over his left eye, the brown hair ghosting across his face. He usually only gelled his hair this badly when something was really wrong. He must have been more tired than he thought

“Ouch,” Kuroo answered, his laughter loud in the space between them. They weren’t sitting anywhere near each other, not touching in the slightest, but Suguru felt like his skin was burning, Kuroo’s heat lapping across the couch and scorching into him.

It had been so long since Kuroo had laughed at something Suguru said. Since he’d touched Suguru. Since he’d sat across the couch from Suguru and talked to him. It had been so long since Suguru admitted to himself that he was so fucking in love with Kuroo Tetsurou, and damn it all, Suguru wasn’t allowed to miss him. He set the half-eaten plate on the coffee table, gathering his notes in an unorganized pile and standing.

“Thanks for the food,” Suguru said, turning away. “But I think I’m going to bed.” Kuroo’s hand reached out for him, stopping maybe three inches from his wrist before pulling away again. Neither of them said anything as Suguru moved to his room, shutting the door softly behind him.

He closed his eyes hard, leaning back against his door and clutching his papers to his chest. He _hated_ the way Kuroo made him feel. Like being Daishou Suguru was a bad thing. Like being himself wasn’t good enough. He’d been lectured plenty of times.

_Cheating is wrong, Suguru._

_You shouldn’t lie to people, Daishou-kun._

_Just how many people_ have _you slept with, Daishou-san?_

Suguru had had the line drawn in the sand in front of him and told not to cross by plenty of people. So many people had given him moral rules and expected him to follow them because _they_ thought the rulers were right. And what other people thought of him had never bothered Suguru before. Or maybe he’d never cared because he’d never been expecting them to understand.

But when Kuroo had broken up with him, it had _hurt._ It had hurt, because Suguru had really thought that Kuroo did get him. That even if he didn’t always approve, Kuroo understood him. It had hurt more than he was prepared for to be proved wrong, and he wasn’t about to make the same mistake twice, no matter how good Kuroo made him feel in the moment.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who read and left comments and kudos!   
> There's a tiny bit of nonconsensual touching in this chapter, but nothing happens, it's not really talked about, and it's not between Kuroo/Daishou

Tetsurou had been in the middle of class when it happened. It had been a normal, regular, high school everyday class that he wished he’d skipped when Sakai was suddenly standing in front of him. Sakai clasped his hands behind his back, staring down his nose at Tetsurou.

“Uh…” Tetsurou said, shifting the papers around on his desk. He hoped Sakai wasn’t going to try asking him for help with homework or something. “Yes?”

“You’re Kuroo Tetsurou, right?” Sakai asked. “You’re dating Daishou Suguru?”

“Uh, yes?” Tetsurou answered, and Sakai pursed his lips, rocking forward on the balls of his feet.

“I don’t know how to tell you this, but…” Sakai trailed off, and Tetsurou realized he seemed genuinely upset. Tetsurou had never liked Sakai, but he couldn’t help being concerned, feeding off Sakai’s energy. “I… I think Daishou is cheating on you.”

“What?” Tetsurou answered, and he felt suddenly numb, shocked into incoherence. “No, that’s not… Daishou wouldn’t…”

“I’m friends with Amari-chan from Nohebi,” Sakai said. “And he says he slept with Daishou. He didn’t even know Daishou was dating anyone until I mentioned you.”

Tetsurou knew better than to just believe every rumor he heard about Daishou. There were times he’d repeated something he’d heard, and Daishou had laughed hard enough that his eyes had started watering, because _of course_ he hadn’t slept with a referee. He only wished. Tetsurou had never been able to figure out if Daishou was joking about the wishing part or not.

Still, Tetsurou hadn’t been able to just let it go, because as much as he wanted to just trust Daishou, the truth was that he really _didn’t_ think Daishou was above cheating on Tetsurou. And a weeks later when he got up the courage to ask, he didn’t know why he was so surprised by the answer.

“Do you know Amari-san?” Tetsurou asked, and Daishou hummed from his spot on the floor, his head propped up against Tetsurou’s couch as a movie played in the background. Tetsurou took his answer for affirmation and continued talking. “He’s pretty hot, right?” he asked, the words bitter in his mouth, and Daishou took his eyes off the TV, shifting against the floor so he could look at Tetsurou.

“I think so, yeah,” Daishou answered, and really, that hadn’t been the answer Tetsurou was looking for, but he smirked anyway. He knew he wasn’t near as good an actor as Daishou, but he must have done a good enough job because Daishou’s expression didn’t change.

“Have you ever…” Tetsurou felt his face flush, and Daishou was suddenly smiling, and Tetsurou was such an idiot for even bring this up. “You know…”

“Slept with him?” Daishou asked, his eyes gleaming as he planted his hand next to Tetsurou’s hip, leaning forward so his face was right in front of Tetsurou’s. “Why do you want to know that? Are you jealous, Tetsu?”

“What?” Tetsurou answered, and he wasn’t near as good as Daishou at lying. “Of course not.”

“It would be alright if you were,” Daishou said, swinging his leg over so he sat in Tetsurou’s lap. His breath was hot against Tetsurou’s ear. “I wouldn’t mind. I might even like it.”

If Daishou avoided the question, if he admitted that found someone he supposedly cheated on Tetsurou with hot, if he admitted that he _wanted_ Tetsurou to be jealous, none of that had to mean anything. It didn’t have to mean Daishou had actually cheated on him. Tetsurou tried to convince himself.

* * *

“I don’t understand,” Bokuto said, half-perched at his desk chair and pretending to do his homework while he really tried to get Akaashi, who was actually doing his homework, to pay more attention to him. “Isn’t Daishou the guy who cheated on you. Why do you care if he likes you?”

“I never understood that,” Kemna answered, his voice low. He didn’t bother to look up from his game, tapping at the buttons as he sat huddled on Bokuto’s dorm room couch. Tetsurou was half-surprised he’d said anything at all. They’d been at Bokuto’s for nearly two hours, and Kemna had barely said three words. “What would he have had to gain by cheating on you?”

“Um,” Tetsurou said, flicking his pen and watching it roll across the pen away from him. He should have been doing his English homework and not thinking about Daishou _again,_ but English was hard and Daishou was… Daishou. “This is Daishou Suguru we’re talking about,” Tetsurou said. “Did he really need a reason? He probably just didn’t think he’d get caught.”

“I don’t know,” Kemna answered, and Tetsurou didn’t know if Kemna had lost his game or if the conversation was suddenly interesting enough for him, but he set he game down on his knees, turning his head toward Tetsurou. “I always thought Daishou-san really liked you, and he never seemed the type to do something unless it benefited him somehow.”

“If he cared about me, then why didn’t he give a fuck when I broke up with him,” Tetsurou said. He sat up from the floor, ignoring the way Bokuto leaned away like Tetsurou was about to bite him. “He didn’t even argue.”

“People are complicated,” Akaashi answered, setting his pencil down on top of his math homework. “There could be any number of reasons he pretended not to care.”

“What?” Tetsurou asked, because honestly if he was going to listen to relationship advice from anybody, it was going to be Akaashi. After a year managing Bokuto, the guy must have some idea what he was doing. Not that Tetsurou was trying to have any kind of relationship with Daishou again. That would be been stupid. “You think he only pretended not to care?” Tetsurou asked.

“None of us know Daishou-san,” Akaashi answered, shrugging as he picked up his pencil again. Which was not at all helpful. Now, Tetsurou also knew why Bokuto whined at Akaashi half the time.

“Okaaay,” Bokuto said, rocking so far back in his chair Tetsurou was afraid he’d fall backward. “But I still don’t understand why you care if he hates you now.”

“I don’t,” Tetsurou answered, and he must have said it entirely too fast, because even Bokuto looked unconvinced.

“You should just tell him how you feel,” Kemna said. “What’s the worst that can happen?”

“Uh,” Tetsurou answered. “He laughs in my face.”

“Kozume-san is right,” Akaashi said, completely ignoring Tetsurou as he continued to scribble away at his homework. “You’re pining it getting a little hard to be around.”

“What?” Tetsurou squawked, struggling to be heard over Bokuto’s obnoxious laughter.

Tetsurou didn’t stay over at Bokuto’s dorm much longer. Actually, none of them stayed over at Bokuto’s dorm much longer, not even Bokuto. The second Bokuto’s roommate, Oikawa traipsed through the door, dragging his boyfriend, Iwaizumi behind him, it was a mass exodos. Tetsurou didn’t need to ask why Bokuto was so eager to leave his own dorm room; he just left him with Akaashi and waved Kemna goodbye as he headed to his own dorm.

Tetsurou hadn’t actually been expecting to see Daishou that night. It wasn’t that it was really that late, but when Daishou didn’t have class the next morning, he had a habit of disappearing. After nearly a month of living with the guy, Tetsurou would have been an idiot to not realize where he was going when he did. He always smelled of sex when he stumbled back in the morning, his hair messy, his clothes skewed, and his mood triumphant. Tetsurou shouldn’t have been hurt that Daishou actually still enjoyed sleeping with other people.

So, when Tetsurou heard shouting coming from their dorm room, he hesitated, his keys hanging from his hands as he hovered. Daishou probably wouldn’t appreciate him bursting into the room while he was in the middle of a shouting match with… whoever he was shouting at. But then again it was still Tetsurou’s dorm room too.

“Hey!” Daishou. That was definitely Daishou’s voice. “Get off—I said _get off_ me!” There was a loud crash, and Tetsurou slammed his keys into the lock, throwing the door open as fast as he could.

Daishou was standing with his back to the far wall, his hand outstretched and his shirt pulled down enough to show off his collarbone. The coffee table was slid a little too far away from the couch, a plastic cup thrown to the floor and what Tetsurou hoped was water spilling out. Another guy Tetsurou didn’t recognize was standing beside the couch, the coffee table separating Daishou and him, and Tetsurou could tell by the wild look in Daishou’s eyes that he wanted this guy _gone._

“What’s going on here?” Tetsurou asked.

“Nothing,” the guy answered, not bothering to take his eyes off Daishou.

“Daishou?” Tetsurou asked.

“It’s time for you to leave, Furuta,” Daishou said. He lowered his hand, grasping the edge of his shirt and stepping further back from the coffee table and the other guy.

“Come on, Daishou,” the guy—Furuta—answered. “We were having fun. Why can’t you just—”

“I said no,” Daishou snapped, gripping his shirt so hard that his knuckles were turning white. “Just because I’m an easy fuck doesn’t mean you can touch me whenever you want.”

“It wasn’t like that, Daishou,” Furuta said, and Tetsurou decided enough was enough. He didn’t even want to think about what would have happened if he hadn’t come home when he did. It wasn’t that he thought Daishou was incapable of anything, but this guy, Furuta was obviously a jerk, who didn’t know when to take no for an answer.

“Hey,” Tetsurou said, stepping forward. The guy had to crane his head back to look at Tetsurou. It wasn’t like Daishou was short or anything, but he wasn’t near tall enough to tower over people. It was times like this that Tetsurou’s height really came in handy. “He said to get out,” Tetsurou said, and for half a second it looked like the guy was going to argue, setting his jaw like he was asking for Tetsurou to deck him.

“Whatever, man,” he said, bumping Tetsurou’s shoulder on his way out the door.

“What an asshole,” Tetsurou said, slamming the door behind the guy.

“You’re telling me,” Daishou answered. He sighed, sitting down heavily on the coffee table and leaning his crossed arms on his knees. “I told him to fuck off last week. I have no idea why he suddenly decided to show up here. I only let him in because I thought he’d make a bigger scene if I refused.”

“Oh,” Tetsurou said.

He wasn’t entirely sure why Daishou was telling him anything; it had never been in Daishou’s nature to explain himself. Even when he lied or cheated at volleyball, he’d never given excuses. You either understood and accepted or you didn’t. It had been one of the things he respected the most about Daishou. He just hadn’t been able to understand why Daishou had cheated on him when he thought he’d been enough.

Besides, he didn’t really need an explanation. It wasn’t like he cared who Daishou slept with. Or at least, he shouldn’t care. It wasn’t really his business if Daishou wanted to sleep with half the school, except to worry that he was being safe and think about how Tetsurou had somehow lost that.

“Well,” Tetsurou said. “There’s no need to thank me.”

“I wasn’t going to,” Daishou said, his answer snapped back almost before Tetsurou had finished talking. “You didn’t have to get involved. It wasn’t your business.”

“We’re friends, Daishou,” Tetsurou said, realizing only after he said it how true it was. How true he _wanted_ it to be. They’d been living together for almost a month, and Daishou was an asshole 90% of the time. He appeared at all hours, smirking and snarking. In practice, he bowed to their upperclassmen and then made faces at their backs. In the mornings, Tetsurou had caught glimpses of him with only a towel on, water dripping from his hair, messy and completely not put together. Tetsurou was only beginning to realize how much he’d missed Daishou.

“I’m surprised you want to be friends with someone like me,” Daishou answered.

“What?” Tetsurou asked because _that_ really didn’t sound like him.

“Forget it, Tetsu,” Daishou said, and he was standing, brushing his hands across his pants, smiling without it reaching his eyes. Tetsurou hesitated, his limbs locking at his nickname. It had been a long time since Daishou had called him Tetsu, since Daishou had just talked to him without calculating everything he could possibly say.

“Are you alright?” Tetsurou asked. Daishou just shut his bedroom door, the sharp snap echoing in their dorm.

* * *

“Stop running away from the blockers,” their captain, Watanabe shouted. He was standing on the sidelines, watching the two on two match between the four first years.

“Yes, sir,” Daishou answered, turning his back on Watanabe even as he said it. It had been his second dink in a row, the ball landing right in front of the other team’s setter, a guy named Moniwa Kaname. Personally, Tetsurou didn’t understand why Watanabe was yelling at Daishou; his dinks were working. No matter how prepared Moniwa looked, he was never fast enough diving for the spot Daishou aimed his dink at. Who cared if it wasn’t a straight smack down spike?

“Your serve,” Tetsurou said, tossing the ball over to Daishou and watching him back up for his jump serve.

“Back up,” the other first year, Asahi said, stepping back. Tetsurou didn’t have to look back at Daishou to know it was the wrong move. The last time Daishou had served, it had been killer, smashing across the net and straight at Asahi. It still wasn’t as good a serve as Tetsurou or Asahi could manage, but Daishou had precision that Tetsurou wasn’t sure he’d ever master. Asahi had made the mistake of forgetting that.

Daishou threw the ball up, running, jumping, and swinging his arm like he was going to slam it down, only to tap the ball. Tetsurou smirked, the ball coming down three steps in front of Moniwa—right on the other side of the net. Moniwa dived, sending the ball flying off to the right. Daishou shouted in triumph behind him, and the score was flipped to 24-22 with them at match point. 

“Just hit the ball!” Watanabe yelled, and Daishou tensed at Tetsurou’s shoulder. “Stop dinking it. Stop running away from the other team’s players and just hit it.”

“He just got a service ace,” Tetsurou muttered, and it wasn’t that he didn’t know better than to argue with his captain, but the guy was seriously starting to piss him off. “Isn’t that a _good_ thing?”

Daishou and him were winning and Watanabe was too focused on _how_ they were winning to care. If Watanabe was anyone else, it wouldn’t have mattered; it might even have been something they could use to their advantage, but Watanabe was their captain, and he should know better than to pick on Daishou just because he didn’t like him.

“It can be a good thing,” Watanabe answered, and he sounded like a know it all douche. “But all you’re doing is running away from the other team. You’re not—”

“So _what?”_ Daishou interrupted, and Watanabe froze, his mouth open mid rant. Tetsurou shifted his weight; he recognized that narrow eyed look in Daishou’s eyes, and he was glad he wasn’t on the receiving end. Daishou on a normal day had a sharp tongue. An angry Daishou could tear someone apart. “Who the fuck cares as long as it gets points on the board?” Daishou said.

“Does that include cheating?” Watanabe answered.

“Is it cheating to take advantage of the other team’s weakness?” Daishou asked. He raised his arm, pointing across the net and talking in a low voice that almost sounded calm. “Asahi’s blocking isn’t as good at Moniwa’s, but they’re using him because he’s taller. Moniwa’s receives could use work, and he’s nowhere near fast enough to pick up the balls Asahi can’t block. I’m aiming for the holes. Smacking it down gets us nowhere, and if you don’t realize there’s more than one way to play volleyball, you’re an idiot.”

“You can’t talk to me like—” Watanabe started, his hands curling into fists as he stepped toward Daishou, and even Tetsurou had a feeling that Daishou had gone too far. He couldn’t talk to an upperclassman—their captain—like that and expect to get away with it.

“That’s an impressive read,” Coach Takao said, his voice echoing around the gym as he stepped onto the court. “It’s a good strategy to use the entirety of the court, especially if the other team has forgotten to cover it.”

“But, sir—” Watanabe said.

“I hope next time, however,” Coach Takao said. “You start by explaining your strategy.” Daishou blinked, shifting his feet, and Tetsurou could tell he had no idea what to say. He’d gotten himself so worked up at Watanabe that he’d forgotten to take into account their coach. It was a testament to how upset Daishou had really been.

“Sir,” Tetsurou said. “Daishou and I talked about our strategy. I knew what he was doing. We just didn’t want to give it away to Asahi and Moniwa by telling Watanabe-san.”

“I see,” Coach Takao said, smiling lightly at him. “Well, finished up then.”

They ended up winning with a deflection of Daishou’s spike after Asahi scored one more point. Daishou brushed past Watanabe without saying anything, heading straight into the shower. Tetsurou ignored the way Watanabe glared across the court at him and chatted with Asahi for a good ten minutes before heading back. By the time Daishou came out of the showers, most everyone was gone. Not that Tetsurou was waiting for him or anything.

“You didn’t have to stand up for me,” Daishou said, pulling his shirt on over his head.

“You really can’t say thank you, can you?” Tetsurou answered, leaning against his locker and smirking. Daishou shut his locker with a snap, the left corner of his mouth rising.

“You want me to thank you for telling the truth?” Daishou asked, and it was really touching how friendly he’d gotten since Tetsurou had saved him—not that Tetsurou would call it _saving­,_ but well, that _was_ what had happened—from Furuta. Daishou was actually capable of a civil conversation now; he didn’t leave the dorm at odd hours, and he was actually relaxing around Testurou.

“I could have lied,” Tetsurou said. “Saved my butt with Watanabe.”

“Sure,” Daishou answered, zipping his bag shut. “But then you wouldn’t be you.”

“Seriously though, I’m surprised you didn’t get chewed out after yelling like that,” Tetsurou said, and Daishou swung his bag over his shoulder.

“I think the coach was letting him egg me on on purpose.”

“Why?” Tetsurou asked, and they stepped outside, the night air cool on their faces.

“I don’t know, but he was a little too fast to intervene, don’t you think?”

“True. Still, there will be trouble with Watanabe.”

“I know,” Daishou said, yanking on the straps like that would take his frustration away. “I hate people like him.

“I couldn’t tell,” Tetsurou answered. Daishou ignored him.

“I hate people who think their way is the only way,” Daishou said. “Why do they get to decided what’s right and what’s wrong?” The profile of Daishou face was lit by the streetlights, his eyelashes casting shadows across his cheekbones. Maybe it was wrong for Tetsurou to want to kiss him so badly when Daishou was obviously pissed, but it only made him want Daishou more. Daishou was horribly attractive, and he knew it, and most of the time he used it.

Most of the time, Daishou’s manipulative side didn’t bother Tetsurou. It was almost fun to watch Daishou when he was causing mayhem and acting innocent, and Tetsurou had never judged Daishou for being himself. But it was when Daishou wasn’t thinking of Tetsurou’s reaction that he was really beautiful. When he felt comfortable enough to let himself relax around Tetsurou that made Tetsurou’s skin burn. Tetsurou hated how he’d had to go so long with Daishou barely even able to look at him. He hated how he felt like it was his fault when Daishou had been the one who— He hated how he couldn’t stop himself from forgiving Daishou, from wanting him.

“You hate everyone,” Tetsurou said.

“Shut up, Tetsu,” Daishou answered, rolling his eyes up further in his head than Tetsurou thought possible.

* * *

Tetsurou slid into the seat across from Daishou, fingering his coffee and trying to ignore the ugly look Daishou was throwing him. He wasn’t actually sure how they’d even ended up here, sitting in some café off school grounds. It almost felt like a date, and Tetsurou was a little too into that idea. 

It was Saturday, Volleyball ending the same way it did every day, and Tetsurou had already been turning toward their dorm room when Daishou had stopped, biting his lip and scrunching his eyebrows together. It was his thinking face, and Tetsurou had been turning and asking him what was up before he even knew what he was doing.

“I’m hungry,” Daishou said. “And there’s no food at the dorm.” And yeah, there wasn’t because neither of them had gone shopping this week, and once Daishou had mentioned food, Tetsurou had realized he was hungry too. So, it only made sense for _both_ of them to go out and eat. Together. Right? It didn’t actually have anything to do with the fact that he wanted to spend time with Daishou.

Well, it didn’t have very much to do with it.

Tetsurou fiddled with his coffee, the cup sliding across the table and making an annoying scraping sound. He hadn’t been expecting it to be this awkward. The last couple of weeks had been fine between them, but now Daishou was acting like Tetsurou had spit on him or something, and Tetsurou didn’t really know what to do to ease the tension. Daishou reached across the table, putting two fingers on top of Tetsurou’s cup and stopping his nervous movement.

“Oh,” Tetsurou said. “Sorry.”

“Whatever,” Daishou answered, wrapping his hands around his own drink, and Tetsurou didn’t understand. If he was having such an awful time why was he sticking around? It wasn’t like Daishou to do things he didn’t like. He was usually so good at worming himself out of situations he didn’t want to be in.

“Are you ready for the game?” Tetsurou asked. Anything to break the silence. Daishou’s incredulous expression was enough for him to know that it was probably the wrong thing to ask.

“I don’t think I’ll actually be playing,” Daishou answered. If Tetsurou didn’t know better, he would have thought Daishou was talking to his coffee cup.

“Come on. Just because Watanabe doesn’t like you doesn’t mean you won’t get to play.”

“I don’t think anyone really wants me there, Kuroo,” Daishou said.

Tetsurou could tell he was distracted. If Daishou was invested in the conversation, he would never have told Tetsurou what he honestly believed the team thought with so little pretense. That didn’t stop the desire to prove him wrong, because even though Daishou had cheated on him, they were friends. They were friends, and he didn’t want Daishou to sit around thinking everyone on their team hated his gut or something.

“I want you there,” Tetsurou answered, and that got Daishou to raise his face, his eyes that defensive squint he got when he was actually offended by something and didn’t want anyone to know. It shouldn’t have been so attractive, even when his anger was directed at Tetsurou.

“You don’t have to lie just to make me feel better,” Daishou said, and okay, that was a little too angry for the size of Tetsurou’s comment. Even before they were dating, Daishou had always smirked and quipped back when Tetsurou made comments like that. He didn’t want them to be so far gone that Daishou snapped when Tetsurou said something nice.

“I’m not lying.”

“No?” Daishou answered, and Tetsurou recognized that look. It was the look Daishou wore when he was about to say something especially hurtful. “Because you never pretend everything alright when wasn’t.”

Tetsurou’s hand tightened around his coffee cup. The words were almost a direct echo of what he’d said to Daishou when he’d broken up to him, slapped back in his face like he was the one who’d done something wrong.

“And you did nothing wrong?” Tetsurou asked, and it was infuriating how Daishou scoffed. Did he really believe that he didn’t do anything wrong? That he hadn’t screwed up when he’d cheated on Tetsurou? It had been his fault, and Tetsurou had tried, but he couldn’t hold on when Daishou hadn’t wanted to. “What about Amari?” Tetsurou asked, and Daishou blinked three times, his eyelashes fluttering as he frowned.

“What does he have to do with anything?” Daishou asked, and it didn’t hurt how confused he sounded. He really thought he hadn’t done anything wrong, and Tetsurou had thought—he’d thought they were good together, that they understood each other. He though they were enough for each other.

“What doesn’t he have to do with it?” Tetsurou answered, and Daishou hesitated, his eyebrows furrowing like he was really trying to figure Tetsurou out.

“Now, you care who I sleep with?”

“I care that you slept with him,” Tetsurou answered. The person at the table to their left glanced over, and Tetsurou cleared his throat, ducking his head. It wasn’t like they were getting anywhere anyway. 

“I have to go to the bathroom,” Daishou said. He turned his face away, standing abruptly and walking away. Tetsurou started fiddling with his coffee again. No way had Daishou actually had to go to the bathroom.

“Kuroo-san?” a voice said, and Tetsurou jerked in surprise. A brown haired girl stood next to his table, staring down at him in a way that made him almost as uncomfortable as Daishou’s silence.

“Uh, yeah?” he answered.

“I’m Yamaka Mika,” she said, bowing just enough to be polite. “A friend of Daishou.”

“Oh,” he answered, swallowing and failing to come up with anything brilliant to say. “Right.” Yamaka Mika. The girl Daishou had dated after Tetsurou. He knew they were still friends; Daishou talked about her enough, but he was also fairly sure they weren’t dating anymore.

“Is Daishou with you?” Yamaka asked, eyeing the coffee across from him.

“Uh, yeah. He’s in the bathroom.”

“Ah,” she said. “Well, I’m glad you guys are friends again. He’s been a lot happier.” Tetsurou blinked, but Yamaka either didn’t notice his confusion or chose to ignore it. “Just don’t mess it up this time, yeah?”

“Mess it…” he blinked again. “Me?”

“Well, yeah?” She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, narrowing her eyes at him like he was an idiot. “You were the one who broke up with him, weren’t you?” There were a lot of answers Tetsurou could have given her and most of them would have been justified, but he couldn’t understand why Daishou’s _ex-girlfriend_ seemed so invested in their relationship.

“I had my reasons,” he said.

“And they justified breaking Daishou’s heart?”

“His… what?” he asked because _what_? Daishou hadn’t cared that they broke up. Or he’d acted like he hadn’t cared. Akaashi’s words came rushing back to him, and it suddenly wasn’t so hard to imagine Daishou feigning indifferent if he thought Tetsurou was going to break up with him anyway. But if Daishou had cared about him then why had he cheated on him?

Unless—but no. There was no way, because Tetsurou couldn’t be wrong. He vaguely heard Yamaka saying something, her brown hair swaying against her back as she walked away, but he felt sort of a like he was getting smashed in the head. It was all starting to make a horrible kind of sense. Daishou’s lack of guilt when he mentioned Amari’s name, both a year ago and now. His confused anger when Tetsurou called him a cheater. Yamaka’s words.

Daishou walked back up to the table, his anger tucked neatly behind one of his signature masks. His hair was perfect, his eyes locked on his coffee, his fingers long and gorgeous. They’d never really announced when they’d started dating; it stood to reason that people didn’t know when they’d become official, and he’d never outright asked—or even accused—Daishou of cheating on him. He’d always just assumed Daishou knew what he was talking about.

“I’m leaving,” Daishou said, and Tetsurou felt himself nodding numbly. Daishou paused, his eyes flicking over Tetsurou’s face. He shook his head when Tetsurou didn’t move, his back pencil straight as he walked away.

But seriously, Tetsurou was wrong. Right? Daishou had cheated on him. He had to have. Otherwise, Tetsurou would have been that asshole who broke up with the guy he was in love with over… nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. The next part will be out tomorrow.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the wonderful comments!

Suguru set his chopsticks down, the food tasting a little like dirt in his mouth. The rest of the team laughed and chattered around him, the high of their win still hanging in the air, but Suguru just wanted to go home. It had been different to celebrate winning a game at Nohebi, when he knew everyone wanted him there, when he’d had a part in their win.

Kuroo sat two seats away from him, his hair falling in a messy heap over his right eye and his gaze drifting back over to Suguru. He’d tried to corner Suguru twice, but Suguru wasn’t about to talk to him. Not after he’d basically called Suguru a slut and left him to trudge back to the dorm alone.

Suguru stood, heading for the bathroom without bothering to make any excuses. No one was talking to him anyway. He didn’t even know why he bothered to be angry anyone. Kuroo wasn’t even wrong. It was just Suguru hadn’t ever thought Kuroo cared who he slept with, or how many people he slept with. He’d never said anything before. Even when he’d thrown Furuta out of their dorm, and Suguru had been embarrassed, not because he’d slept with such an asshole but because it had been Kuroo who’d walked through the door, Kuroo hadn’t seemed at all judgmental.

And Suguru was getting a little sick of misinterpreting Kuroo. Of Kuroo _pretending_ to like him when he obviously didn’t.

The door swung open behind him, and Watanabe and the co-captain, Kiyama, walked through. Suguru shut the water of his sink off, holding in his sigh as they made their way over to him. Obviously, it had been too much to hope that everyone would just leave him alone.

“Daishou,” Watanabe said, not bothering with any type of honorific, even though there was no way they were close enough to go without. “How did you like the game?”

“I especially liked the part where we won, and you stood on the sidelines,” Kiyama said.

They were both smirking at him, their eyes gleaming with an after match kind of high that Suguru recognized. They were assholes, and they were trying to get a rise out of him, but he doubted they were actually going to do anything to him.

“It was a good game,” Suguru answered, the smile he plastered onto his face slow and calculating. “Of course, you wouldn’t have had to go to full sets if you were better at receiving.”

“You little—” Watanabe started, but the door swung open again and Kuroo stuck his big head through.

“Is everything alright in here?”

“Fine,” Kiyama answered. He put a hand on Watanabe’s shoulder, glaring over at Suguru like that would do anything. Watanabe took two steps back before turning on his heel and leaving, shoving his shoulder against Kuroo’s.

“You’re really making friends,” Kuroo said, the door swinging shut behind him.

“Did you follow me back here?” Suguru asked, and he was trying to keep his calm, but his voice still came out a sharp snap. He wished he knew how to make himself not react to Kuroo.

“I was just…” Kuroo trailed off. He took a couple steps further into the bathroom, fiddling with the ends of his shorts. “Daishou, I just wanted to apologize.”

“What?” Suguru asked. He suddenly felt wrong footed, thrown into an alternate universe and told to swim where there was no water. Kuroo was apologizing to him?

“I’ve been an asshole to you this past year, and I—” Kuroo swallowed, taking another step forward. He seemed so sincere, nervous, and he was apologizing. He was actually apologizing? It shouldn’t have made Suguru want to slap him. “I just wanted—”

“Don’t you dare apologize to me,” Suguru interrupted. And damnit, he could feel the anger burning behind his eyes. Why did Kuroo have to keep poking and prodding when he knew Suguru didn’t want him around? And why did Suguru have to care? “You think just because those two assholes are picking on me you suddenly get to feel guilty?”

“No, that’s no—” Kuroo started.

“You don’t get to feel guilty, and you don’t get to come to me so you can feel better about yourself.”

“Daishou…” Kuroo trailed off, but he looked at a loss, and he deserved to be. He didn’t deserve to apologize. Or feel better. He probably didn’t even know what he was apologizing for. He just felt guilty because he was a _nice_ guy, and Suguru _hated_ nice guys. Kuroo didn’t have the first idea what he did to Suguru.

“Leave me alone, Kuroo,” Suguru answered. He stalked toward the door, having every intention of just walking past Kuroo and storming out.

“Daishou, wait,” Kuroo said, his fingers wrapping around Suguru’s elbow, and Suguru reacted before he really thought about what he was doing. He shoved against Kuroo’s chest, but Suguru wasn’t exactly balanced, and Kuroo was still a good three inches taller than him. Suguru stumbled, and Kuroo tried to catch him, but they both ended up on the floor of the bathroom, Kuroo’s weight heavy and solid on top of him.

It had been a long time since he’d felt Kuroo pressed against him like this, and Suguru hated how he liked it. He hated how it reminded him of nights spent pressed together, of tongues and skin and Kuroo’s hands against his body.

“Get off me,” Suguru said, his voice a husky whisper.

“I, uh, sorry,” Kuroo answered, his breath blowing across Suguru’s face. Then he was moving away, and apparently, Suguru had lost his mind sometime in the last minute, because he was reaching out, his hands wrapping around Kuroo’s jacket. He yanked Kuroo back down, smashing their lips together, and it shouldn’t have felt so good when Kuroo moaned.

Kuroo melted against him, weaving his hand through Suguru’s hair and probably messing it up completely. Suguru nipped at Kuroo’s bottom lip, but of course, once Suguru opened his mouth, Kuroo shoved his tongue inside. It was horribly reminiscent of all the times they would make out and neither of them could be bothered to give in.

Suguru couldn’t in that moment be bothered to care. It was like they were in high school again, making out on a frankly disgusting bathroom floor with Kuroo’s tongue in his mouth like they still had a chance. And damnit, this shouldn’t still be able to hurt him.

Suguru pushed Kuroo’s shoulders, wrenching his mouth away. Kuroo went easily, the heels of his palms resting on either side of Suguru’s head. They were both panting, their breath mingling together between them. Suguru was so in love with him that it was bordering on pathetic, and he was a lot of things, but pathetic wasn’t one of them.

“Get off me,” Suguru said. Kuroo’s eyes widened, but he did get off Suguru, scrambling to his feet like Suguru had shoved him.

“Suguru, I—”

“Just don’t,” Suguru interrupted, getting to his feet. He probably looked atrocious, but right then, he really just wanted to leave. He didn’t understand Kuroo, and he was tired of trying and failing to figure it out.

* * *

Tetsurou stood at the entrance of the locker room, waiting. Daishou had been avoiding him. It had been three days since they’d made out on the bathroom floor, and Tetsurou was getting a little desperate. When Daishou wasn’t locked in his room, he was out of the dorm doing who knew what, and even when he was in the same room as Tetsurou, he didn’t so much as acknowledge his existence.

The door swung open, and Daishou sauntered in, already dressed in his athletic wear. Practice started in barely five minutes, and Tetsurou wasn’t an idiot. He knew Daishou was showing up late to try and avoid him, but they needed to talk like yesterday.

“Can we talk?” Tetsurou asked, stepping up close to Daishou. He smelled like honey and something sour, and Tetsurou was probably standing a little to close, but he was tired of Daishou ignoring him.

“No,” Daishou answered, side stepping him. He threw his bag down and practically ran out to the gym.

Tetsurou groaned. It wasn’t that he didn’t get it. He did; he’d been an asshole, and from Daishou’s perspective, he’d been an asshole for no good reason. He could only imagine what Daishou thought he was talking about when he brought up Amari and cheating. He probably thought Tetsurou was the biggest hypocrite in existence, but Tetsurou didn’t know what to do if Daishou wouldn’t listen to him.

Practice started off fine. Watanabe glared at them from under his bangs, but he didn’t say anything with Coach Takao standing right there. It wasn’t until they were doing spikes, the ball Daishou had spiked smashing down on the opposite side of the net that it happened. Watanabe was blocking on the other side of the net, landing a touch too close, and Tetsurou would have said it was an accident except he saw the way Watanabe cocked his foot out.

Daishou landed right on Watanabe’s foot, crying out as his ankle twisted, and he went down hard. Tetsurou immediately left the line, squatting beside Daishou as the coach knelt on his other side. Daishou straightened his left leg out, grimacing as he moved his ankle.

“You need to get that looked at,” Coach Takao said. “Can you stand?”

“I’m fine,” Daishou answered, and then he immediately shoved his bad ankle under himself like an idiot. He let out a high pitched squeak and landed back on his butt.

“Just go get that looked at,” Coach Takao said, shaking his head as he stood. “Kuroo-kun will help you.”

“I don’t need help,” Daishou answered.

“I’ll deal with Watanabe,” Coach Takao said, and he almost seemed like he was talking to himself now, ignoring Daishou’s protests as he walked away. “Tripping another student like that…”

“Here,” Tetsurou said. He reached a hand out, moving to pull Daishou’s left arm over his shoulder so he could support most of Daishou’s weight.

“I don’t need help,” Daishou repeated, recoiling like Tetsurou’s touch would burn him. He tried not to let that hurt.

He couldn’t help wondering if they would ever get back to where they used to be. Even if he apologized, and Daishou understood, would he ever really be able to forgive Tetsurou? Tetsurou wasn’t sure he’d be able to forgive himself for screwing up what they’d had.

“You can’t even stand,” Tetsurou said.

“I don’t need _your_ help,” Daishou answered.

“You’re not going to hop down to the nurse,” Tetsurou said, and Daishou’s lips tightened, a muscle in his jaw jumping. He didn’t really have a choice, and he knew better than to throw a fit in the middle of practice, even if he was injured.

“Fine,’” he breathed, letting Tetsurou pull him to his feet.

They hobbled out the gym together, Daishou limping enough on his ankle to let Tetsurou know it must have hurt. It really wasn’t that far to the nurse, and Tetsurou knew Daishou didn’t want to talk to him. He had his face turned resolutely away, holding his body as far from Tetsurou as physically possible. Tetsurou should have just left it alone, but if he didn’t talk to Daishou while he had him cornered now, he might never get another chance.

“When we were—” Tetsurou started.

“Don’t talk to me,” Daishou interrupted, and even though his voice was steady, his body had tensed.

“Daishou—”

“I don’t want to talk to you.”

“You can’t avoid me forever.”

“I can try,” Daishou answered, and they’d stopped walking now, which really didn’t fit well with the whole avoiding forever thing that Daishou was planning, but Tetsurou wasn’t going to argue with more time to explain himself.

“I thought you were cheating on—”

“Yes, you’ve made your opinion of me quite clear,” Daishou interrupted, and Tetsurou wished he would just shut up already.

“—on me,” he finished, raising his voice to be heard, and Daishou hesitated, freezing like the words were just registering in his mind.

“What?” he asked, wrenching himself away from Tetsurou. He stood precariously on one foot, his eyes narrowed in that confused little frown he had when he was really bewildered.

“I broke up with you because I thought you were cheating on me,” Tetsurou said. Daishou opened his mouth, shook his head, closed his mouth, then opened it again.

“Why?” he asked, and Tetsurou told him about Sakai and Amari and how stupid he’d been to jump to conclusions, and Daishou blinked hard, turning his face away, and Tetsurou couldn’t tell if he was more hurt or bewildered.

“That’s really stupid, Kuroo,” Daishou said once he’d finished.

“I know,” Tetsurou answered. At least Daishou was talking to him now, even if he wasn’t looking at him or calling him Tetsu, he didn’t seem like he was overwhelmingly angry. Tetsurou didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing. “I should have known you’d never do something like that, I just—”

“I cheated on my girlfriend freshman year,” Daishou interrupted, and Tetsurou suddenly felt wrong footed again. Of course, Daishou had to throw something like that into the water.

“I… uh, oh,” Tetsurou answered, feeling like a complete idiot. He wasn’t surprised. They were in this mess, because he’d _known_ Daishou was capable of cheating on someone, he just hadn’t expected Daishou to throw it in his face.

“I just wouldn’t have done that to you,” Daishou said, and Tetsurou felt his world flip again. Daishou’s eyes were dark and melancholy, and Tetsurou didn’t think he’d ever seen him look quiet so sincere.

“Why?” he asked.

“Because I loved you,” Daishou shrugged. “Because you were…” he trailed off, awkwardly crossing his arms. “It wouldn’t have been worth it.”

Tetsurou wet his lips, shifting uncomfortably. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was supposed to say. Part of him felt like it had just blocked a perfect spike. He’d spent the past year wondered why he hadn’t been enough for Daishou, and here was Daishou standing there telling him he had been.

The other part of him felt like a shrived corpse. Everything Daishou said had an air of finality to it. Wouldn’t have, not wouldn’t. Were, not are. Loved, not love. He made it sound like that wasn’t the case anymore, and how was Tetsurou supposed to tell him he was desperately in love with him still if Daishou didn’t feel the same way.

“Can we just go to the nurse,” Daishou said, tightening his arms. “My ankle really hurts.”

“Oh, right,” Tetsurou answered, stepping forward and shoving his shoulder back under Daishou’s armpit.

* * *

Suguru lay flat on his back, the ceiling of his and Kuroo’s dorm an unappealing white above him. He should probably move. He was taking up almost the entire couch, and he probably looked like an idiot to boot, but Kuroo was the only one who would see him, and he didn’t feel like moving. 

“I can’t believe Coach Takao sidelined Watanabe for the rest of the season,” Kuroo said, the shuffle of his fabric giving away his pacing.

“He lost captain too,” Suguru answered, and he didn’t bother hiding the smug satisfaction from his voice. Kuroo let out a low chuckle.

The whole thing had actually surprised Suguru more than he liked to admit. Coach Takao had actually apologized to him for letting things get out of hand. He _had_ let Watanabe push him around in the beginning, not because he thought Suguru was bad, but because he’d wanted to see how much Suguru cared. He’d given Suguru an odd look when he’d said that Suguru just didn’t trust other people with his emotions, but he was on a team and he had to trust his team for his team to trust him.

And fine. Maybe he had a point. He hadn’t trusted his team, but they also hadn’t liked him. Wasn’t it better to show them something he knew they would like? It wasn’t that he was incapable of trusting people. He’d trusting his teammates at Nohebi. He trusted Mika. He’d trusted Kuroo, and alright, in hindsight, maybe if he’d just told Kuroo he didn’t want to break up they wouldn’t be in the mess they were in now, but he’d also never lied.

“You’re thinking hard,” Kuroo said. He lifted Suguru’s legs, sliding onto the couch before setting them back on his lap.

Suguru bit his lip against the shiver he could feel working its way through him. He was in his volleyball clothes, Kuroo’s fingers skimming across his bare thighs, and even after Kuroo’s dumbass confession, Suguru still didn’t understand. Kuroo had basically slotted himself back in Suguru’s life, laughing and sarcastic and casually touching like he didn’t make Suguru burn. Suguru could tell Kuroo wanted him. He was doing that same danced he’d done right before they’d started dating a year ago.

Suguru hadn’t recognized it then, but he did now. He saw the way Kuroo would throw him a cocky smile or touch him teasingly, but then as soon as Suguru opened his mouth and turned toward him, Kuroo would back off, blushing like a schoolboy.

He just didn’t understand why. Kuroo had to know Suguru felt the same way; he’d pretty much said the words, laid them out in front of Kuroo and given him the world’s biggest opening for heartfelt confessions, and Kuroo had just stared at him.

“Daishou?” Kuroo asked, his voice tinged with worry. “Is everything alright?”

“Of course,” Suguru answered. “Everything’s fine. Why wouldn’t everything be fine?”

“Well, usually you’ve made a snarky comment by now,” Kuroo said. His hand was hot against Suguru’s leg, catching along the hairs, and Suguru wished he would keep going up, reach under his shorts and—Suguru pulled his legs away, sitting up on the coach.

“I don’t make snarky comments,” he answered, and Kuroo raised an eyebrow. They were still sitting entirely too close to each other, even though there was a good foot on the other side of Suguru, but he wasn’t about to move away. He was tired of dancing around Kuroo. He was going to get his answers if it killed him.

“Loosing our memory now, are we?” Kuroo asked, his breath hot on Suguru’s face.

Suguru didn’t bother to answer. He just leaned in, pressing his mouth against Kuroo’s. Kuroo let out a surprised little gasp, his mouth opening just enough for Suguru to stick his tongue in. He reached forward and up, his hand grasping Kuroo’s ridiculous hair. He leaned into Kuroo’s warmth, sending them tumbling off the couch with Suguru landing on top of Kuroo with a soft thud.

“Ow,” Kuroo groaned, his hands still locked on Suguru’s waist. Suguru laughed, the sound high and entirely too bubbly to be coming from his mouth. He leaned down, tilting his head as he searched for Kuroo’s lips again. “What are you doing, Daishou?” Kuroo asked, and Suguru jerked back, some horrible feeling that he refused to call dread sinking in his stomach.

“What?”

“No, that’s not—” Kuroo said, his hands tightening on Suguru’s hips, and even if Suguru wanted to move, he wasn’t going anywhere. “I wasn’t trying to—” Kuroo groaned, looking frustrated with himself. Which was entirely warranted, because Suguru was feeling a little frustrated himself. “I just didn’t think you wanted to, you know, do this anymore.”

“What?” Suguru asked, and he knew he must have looked like an idiot with his mouth hanging half open, sprawled across Kuroo, but he didn’t particularly care in that moment. No matter how stupid he looked, Kuroo had him beat.

“It’s just—you said you loved me,” Kuroo said like that explained anything.

“Yeah,” Suguru answered. “And that was your cue to say you love me.”

“Oh,” Kuroo said, blinking once, and Suguru could practically see the light bulb go off. It would have been enduring if he hadn’t spent the past three days wondered where Kuroo had left his brain. “Right.”

“What did you think?” Suguru asked, but when Kuroo opened his mouth, he realized what a stupid question it was, and really, there was only room for one for one of them to be stupid. “No, I don’t want to know. I just want you to stick your dick in me.”

“I can do that,” Kuroo answered, his smile slow and predatory and entirely too arousing to be fair.

* * *

Tetsurou sat back on his heels, his hands pressed flat against Daishou’s stomach. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed having Daishou naked in his bed, his legs resting on either side of Testurou’s thighs and his dick hard. Daishou arched his back, pressing up against Tetsurou’s hands and obviously trying to get Tetsurou to touch him.

“You’re impatient,” Tetsurou muttered, running his hands up Daishou’s stomach to rest on his chest.

“I hate you,” Daishou answered, and Tetsurou pinched one of his nipples. Daishou wriggled slightly, making no real effort to get away. “I said dick, not nipples.”

“And bossy,” Tetsurou said, but Daishou was always like this during sex. At least in the beginning. It would take a little more than Tetsurou messing with his nipples for Daishou to stop being bossy.

“Dick into ass,” Daishou answered. “It’s not hard, Kuroo.”

Tetsurou rolled his eyes, but he did pull his hands away from Daishou’s chest. The lube was already on the bed next to him, and he took a second to appreciate his own good thinking before he coated his fingers. Daishou pressed his hips down, his dick bobbing in the air, but Tetsurou had a feeling that wasn’t really where he wanted to be touched. Still, it was inviting.

Tetsurou ran his tongue down the shaft, the taste sharp and entirely Daishou. Daishou jerked, a muffled gasp sounding above Tetsurou’s head. He hadn’t been expecting that then. Tetsurou blew on him, and Daishou’s legs spasmed against his thighs.

“Kuroo,” Daishou muttered, his voice low and hoarse. Tetsurou bit back his smile; Daishou was already a step away from whining.

He pressed one finger against Daishou’s entrance, teasing the ring of muscles, and Daishou grunted, rolling his hips down like he couldn’t wait another second. He was wet and hot around Tetsurou’s finger, and Tetsurou almost groaned at the feeling. It had been so long since he’d been inside of anyone, much less Daishou, and he wanted to do this now, but Daishou was so tight.

“You’re tight,” Tetsurou said, pressing a second finger inside.

“Yeah, well,” Daishou answered, his voice breathless. “Believe it or not, I don’t bottom for just anyone.”

Tetsurou groaned, pressing his forehead against Daishou’s hipbone. He was so hard it was beginning to hurt. Of course, Daishou had to go say something like that. He scissored his fingers, moving as deep inside as he could. If he remembered correctly, Daishou’s prostate was a little to the left and—Daishou moaned loudly, his fingers twisting in Tetsurou’s sheets.

Tetsurou probed the spot again, and Daishou threw his head. His perfect hair was already a mess, sweat beginning to bead at his collar bone. Tetsurou pushed another finger into him, and Daishou shoved his hips down, fucking himself on Tetsurou’s fingers in a way that was entirely too attractive. He bent his head, sucking one of Daishou’s balls into his mouth, and Daishou cried out, his left leg curling around Tetsurou’s waist like he was trying to draw him in.

“Stop!” Daishou yelled, his fingers digging in the skin of Tetsurou’s shoulders. “Stop, stop, stop!” Tetsurou pulled off, his fingers coming out with a wet pop, and Daishou stared up at the ceiling with a dazed expression.

“Are you alright?”

“Get inside me before I cum my brains out,” Daishou said. He was panting hard, his dick standing straight up, and Tetsurou realized that Daishou had stopped him because he’d wanted to cum with Tetsurou inside him. He smiled, adjusting them as he lined himself up.

“Whatever you want, babe,” he said, and Daishou’s gaze flicked down, a touch of annoyance in his eyes.

“Don’t call me—” he cut himself off with a low moan, Tetsurou sinking into him in one slow motion.

He rested for a moment with his ball against Daishou’s ass, and then Daishou’s fingers were digging into his shoulder again. Tetsurou pulled out slowly before sliding back in as gradually as he could, making sure he hit Daishou’s prostate. Daishou’s fingernails tightening on his shoulder, his legs wrapped around Tetsurou waist and his hips rolling up and down like he could make Tetsurou move faster.

Tetsurou pressed a kiss against his left nipple, gliding in and back out. He rolled the nipple between his teeth, Daishou squirming under him. The fingernails were starting to get a little painful, but it was would be worth it when Daishou gave in. He slid back in, moving his lips up to suck at Daishou’s collarbone. It tasted of sweat and sex, and when he pulled back out again, he could see the mark he’d made. He moved to the hollow of Daishou’s throat, licking the sweat that had collected and started pushing carefully back in.

“Tetsu,” Daishou said, and Tetsurou paused. He sounded wrecked, the corner of his left eye wet and his hand clenched so tight on Tetsurou’s shoulder, he wondered if there was blood. “Come on, _please_.” It was about as close as Daishou came to begging, and Tetsurou wasn’t about to refuse him.

He was already mostly pulled out, so he shifted his hold on Daishou’s hips and slammed back in. Daishou cried out, arching his back as Tetsurou pulled out and shoved back in again. It was a punishing pace, and Tetsurou knew he wasn’t going to last very long with Daishou clamping around him. He reached down, wrapping a hand around Daishou. It only took one pull before Daishou tensed under him, and Tetsurou followed him right over the edge.

He collapsed forward, and Daishou winced as he slipped out. He kissed an apology against Daishou’s throat before tucking his face into his neck. Daishou twisted his hips, moving to lay in a more comfortable position as he wrapped him arms around Tetsurou’s waist. They should probably clean up, he could feel the cum and lube and sweat sticking to them, but he really didn’t want to move.

“If you ever break up with me again, I’ll break your face,” Daishou said, and Tetsurou snorted into his neck. He probably would have been worried if they hadn’t just had mind blowing sex, if he wasn’t in love with Daishou, if he had any plans on ever breaking up with him. “You think I’m joking,” Daishou said.

“I love you,” Tetsurou answered, and Daishou ran his fingers through Tetsurou’s hair, yanking a little too hard when he hit a knot.

“I love you, too,” he said. “Even if you are an idiot.”

~~fin~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I really like these two, and there are never enough stories to read about them, so I hope you all enjoyed!


End file.
